Carabelle: A Skyrim Story
by passionatewriter21
Summary: Carabelle Sylbery is a young Nord who knows little of the world outside of her small village. She secretly loves the mysterious yet forbidden magic, but continues to suppress this love her whole life. That is until a strange group stops at the village. The large group is on their way to the College of Winterhold: a place for magic users. And this is when her life really begins.
1. Chapter 1

The luminescent sunlight from the window roused me.

This was a surprise, because normally, I would've been woken by one of my many siblings. Usually the younger ones.

Laying curled up next to me was my little sister, Lirena. She had her arms tightly locked around her skinny knees; clearly she was cold. My eyes swept the room for a blanket of sorts, and surprisingly, I found one. It was dirty, old and tattered, but we didn't have many options here. I carefully draped the blanket over Lirena, before getting to my feet as quietly as possible.

Two more people were sleeping soundly in the room: Frizane, my little brother, and Marada, my fiesty red headed younger sister. The others slept in the room opposite of this one. My back and feet ached worse than ever due to the excessive work the day before. But I was use to it all: the challenging work and uneventful aspects of life. And there wasn't anything I could do to change that fact.

My ice cold feet carried me to the other side of the room. I opened the door as quietly as I could, hoping that maybe the younger ones wouldn't hear me. Somehow they didn't, and I crept out of the room.

Mother and Father were already wide awake, of course. Father had to try and sell his smithing work like he did everyday. We needed any money we could get in our large family. Lirena and Frizane were the youngest ones in our family. Though I loved them all to death, at times they seemed to be a bit _too_ energetic. Then there was the five older ones: myself, Marada (who I was only one year older than), Joratte, Thornen, and finally, Bordican. Bordican had already departed our home and got himself a wife. They purchased a handsome home in Whiterun. He was fortunate enough to find her, and leave behind Wolfwater forever.

Wolfwater was located on the outermost edge of Skyrim, belonging to the Hold of The Reach. Most people didn't even know it existed, since it was so far away. It was a small village with a large variety of farms. Farming was almost an impossible task because of the intense, severe weather. But somehow we managed, just barely skimming by.

Mother sat at the table, eating breakfast in a haste. She looked up upon my arrival.

"Hello dear, how are you?" She asked me as she ripped off a piece of stale bread.

"Alright," I told her quietly. A shiver ran through my spine, like cold fingers crawling down me. Goosebumps appeared up and down my arms. Always _so_ cold in our house.

"Here, have some breakfast. Are the younger ones up yet?" Mother inquired, handing me some bread as I sat down. I shook my head.

"No, I think it was a bit too cold in our room last night," I replied gravely.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was soft but had a sad undertone. Mother wanted to give us more than this. She wanted us to have a _good_ life. But she tried her best. And besides, she taught me how to read and write: something I cherished very much.

After a few moments of silence I asked her in a solemn voice,

"Has Father sold anything yet?"

"Yes actually," Mother told me a little excitedly. "He managed to get a local traveler to buy an iron dagger and some fur gauntlets. Best sell we've had for a while!"

"Brilliant," I said, smiling ever so slightly. That really was good; maybe I could feed my siblings a sufficient meal for once.

After breakfast, I decided it best to go out and hunt. Hunting wasn't exactly my forte, but I did it anyway, as it was a necessity. I pulled on my hunting gear and grabbed my bow and arrows. Just as I was about to leave, Thornen stopped me, unfortunately.

"Going somewhere, Carabelle?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Hunting. Got a problem with that, Thornen?" My eyes narrowed as he began to look even more smug.

"No. May I accompany you?" He asked, his lips turning up at the ends.

"Sure, I suppose a little help might be useful."

The smug little Thornen took his superfluously large war axe, like he always did. He thought bows were wimpy, and true Nords hunted with swords or axes. Cottleswop, evidently.

"A bit heavy for hunting, don't you think?" I asked him as we walked out of our little house. He laughed three times, in an irritating way.

"No, not at all!"

"Oh, shut it," I told him sharply. He thankfully didn't respond.

It was still rather early outside, but a few roamed about. I caught sight of Aslfdic Black-Soul, a young man who claimed his love for me was unconditional and irrevocable. I pulled my hood over my head, praying to the gods that he wouldn't see me. But of course, being my luck, he did.

"Carabelle Sylbery, just the beautiful woman I wanted to see!"

It was no use to hide. I pulled off my hood and tried to give him a little greeting smile, but it wasn't much.

"Hello, Aslfdic. How are you this morning?"

"Exceptional, now that I have laid my eyes on you. Have you yet changed your mind about my proposal?" He took a step closer to me, and I heard Thornen chuckle under his breath.

"No, I'm sorry Aslfdic, but I've already given my answer. Now I must get going, I have a task to get to," I tried to hide my annoyance at him, but it felt impossible.

"Hunting, are you? Beautiful and strong, evidently," he answered, smiling. I gave my head a little shake.

"Thank you, but I must get going. Thornen?" I looked desperately up at him for help. He seemed to be holding laughter himself, naturally.

"Yes, yes," Thornen finally said, coughing to conceal his laughter. "Let's be on our way, then."

Mercifully, Aslfdic gave me a wink before leaving us. Thornen was still laughing as we trotted up one of the hills, leading into the thick forest.

"Oh stop it," I muttered heatedly. He snickered with volume.

"Carabelle Sylbery, the most beautiful woman in all of Tamriel," he mocked. I glared menacingly at him.

"Well, at least you have _that_ advantage. Get yourself a nice husband and you'll be set for life. Speaking of the future, I have something to share," he told me quickly. I raised my eyebrows. Thornen had something to share? What a pleasant surprise. Not.

"What is it?"

He heaved a deep breath. "I'm going to join the Companions in Whiterun."

He most definitely took me by surprise. My mouth hanging open slightly, I stared at him. He smiled wistfully.

"Well," I told him slowly, "that sounds rather interesting."

"Interesting? It's going to be great!"

"Yes, yes," I mumbled quietly.

"Come on, Carabelle, has Joratte even told you what _she_ wants to do? I reckon she hasn't."

I shook my head, worry seizing me. What could be worse than joining the Companions?

"You know how outspoken she is about Daedric worshippers, right?" He asked me a little quieter this time.

"Yes, that they should all be killed and imprisoned for their despicable crimes," I answered simply.

He nodded. "And how much she despises the existence of vampires and werewolves?"

I nodded once again. "Well, she wants to join the Vigilants of Stendarr."

Vigilants of Stendarr? Oh no. I remebered reading, a few years ago, a book about this clan. They mainly hunted for Daedric worshippers, along with werewolves and vampires. Anything that preyed on human kind, as they said.

"Carabelle," Thornen has suddenly become very serious. His dark eyes met mine.

"The Companions. . ." He hesitated, staring at a point located behind me. "Are werewolves." He said finally. His voice was just barely audible.

Werewolves? I shook my head, seeming to not hear my ears correctly. My brother, Thornen, would become a monstrous creature such as a _werewolf?_ The shock was greater than it had ever been before.

"Wow," I breathed quietly. Thornen had an expression of deep worry.

"Yes, you aren't scared, are you?"

"No," I told him immediately. My answer was clear and firm. Though I deeply disliked werewolves, I wasn't going to shun my brother away for it. After all, werewolves weren't _as_ bad as vampires, since they could change at will, instead of being a creature all the time. I tried my very best to look at the bright side of things.

"But," I began, my curiosity getting the better of me, "how did you find out about it?"

"You know that strange man that always hangs around the inn in the village? He used to be in the Companions, and when he saw how I truly wanted to join them, he told me."

"Oh" was all I could manage.

After a moment, another question popped into my head. "Do the. . .the Vigilants of Stendarr know about the Companions being werewolves?"

Thornen let out a deep sigh. He nodded, his head bowed to the moist floor beneath us.

"Yes, I'm sure they do."

There was silence. Dark, unusual silence. Finally I broke it by saying,

"Thornen, what are you going to do if they _do_ know? What about Joratte? She'll be. . .once she knows. _If_ they do know," I shook my head at the very thought.

"I know," he informed me a little sadly. He kicked a rock with his boot. "And I haven't told her yet. You and Marada are the only ones that know. I _can't_ let her know. Promise you won't tell her?"

"Yes," I promised. "But what will you say when you leave?"

"I don't know yet. Perhaps I'll claim that I want to find some mercenary job in Whiterun, or say that I want to find a wife. Maybe I'll just wait for her to leave before I do."

Something moving caught my eye. A little deer galloped across the wood, and I instinctively readied my bow. It ran faster at my sudden movement. I aimed with as much precision as I could, and let go. The arrow just went through its backside. It fell to the ground, dead.

"Very good," Thornen told me as we walked to the lifeless animal. "I'd say you wouldn't need a husband with that kind of archery."

"Yeah right," I breathed. I kneeled down near the deer. I pulled out the arrow and cleaned it with some grass, then placed it back into the sheath.

We walked together then, in the tall, viridescent grass, the morning sun hidden by the thick of the trees. I found the dimness of the forest calming, especially being so distant from the village. The same old, perhaps a little boring, small village. But it was all I had, and there wasn't much I could do about that fact, rather it fortunate or not.

"So," Thornen began, a little distracted by his searching for animals. "Almost seventeen, huh? Considering what _you_ will do in the future?" He swung his axe, showing off his 'skills'. I resisted the urge to laugh.

"Um," I stared off into the distant, contemplating his question. _What_ _was_ _my_ _future_? Sadly enough, I had no clue. The truth was, I would probably end up just like Mother, marrying another young villager, and working long and hard days to support my family. Though it was depressing, I didn't have many options. Leading the life of an adventurer was unrealistic.

"I don't know," I sighed. It was true. I didn't know for sure. Thornen, to my happiness, then dropped the topic.

In the end, Thornen managed to get loads of game, whereas I didn't. I suppose my first and last kill of the morning was just a lucky shot. The hunting trip definitely didn't put me in high spirits. In fact, quite the opposite. Thornen handed me his winnings at the doorstep before running off to find Hurgen, a girl we _all_ knew he fancied. The thing was, she was the daughter of a begger. Her father and her stayed at the local inn permanently, since they had no other place to live. It was unfortunate though, because Hergen was kind and considerate, and didn't deserve the life she had. Thornen didn't care much about what we thought of his 'friend', which I admired, oddly enough.

The way he gazed at her was so strange. I felt I could never understand his feelings towards her, since I had never experienced anything _near_ that. I wondered how people were able to love someone so much, that they might have been under a spell.

I entered the house and set the bag of game on the table. Mother was now sitting on the floor with Lirena in her lap, reading. Lirena had already almost perfected reading, though she was so young. I watched them for a little, smiling at my own memories of learning how to read.

Mother soon looked up with a sweet smile.

"Carabelle, love, would you get the clothes from that basket and wash them in the pond, please?" She asked me kindly. I nodded quickly, the weaved basket already in my arms. I walked out once again in the soft sunlight and the cool air, the perfect weather in my opinion. It was rarely this temperate in Wolfwater.

There was a little pond near the side of our tiny house we used to wash things in. It was small but deep, and most of the time a clear aqua blue. Sure enough, the body of water was sparkling under the sun. Beautiful little things such as that made me thankful for my life.

I kneeled next to the water, and brushed my fingertips on the surface. The water was shivering cold, as it always was, no matter what time of year. I took an item of clothing - which appeared to be Lirena's olive green dress - and began washing it. I continued this process of washing and folding the clothes to dry, over and over. When only a few more items of clothing remained, I heard familar laughing from a girl and boy. I looked up to see Hurgen and Thornen, walking side by side, laughing up a storm.

The pair staggered their way over to the pond. Thornen's arms were around hers, and they wouldn't stop grinning. Upon seeing me, he didn't move his arms, but instead laughed again.

"Care for a swim, Carabelle?" He asked. His companion giggled like a child. I couldn't help but notice though, the excessive dirt smeared on Hurgen's blushing cheeks. A swim would be good for her. I nodded, now smiling too.

We always would swim in the pond on handsome days such as this. We would swim with our clothes on, since we had nothing else to use. I hastily finished my washing and folding while the couple watched me, laughing hysterically.

"Alright," I announced, getting to my feet. "Let's go in."


	2. Chapter 2

"Will it be cold?" Hurgen asked, watching Thornen remove his boots with careful eyes.

He threw his boots to the side and began removing his steel gauntlets Father had made him. "Oh yes," he informed her, "it is always _very_ cold."

"It's alright, I'm use to it." She told him a little sadly. A few of the passing villagers looked up at us curiously. Hurgen took down her messy bun to reveal long, thick strands of golden hair. It wasn't too tangled, but it definitely was unclean. Thornen didn't seem to notice that last part, because for a moment he gazed at her with adoring eyes. I finished untying my boot laces and quickly kicked them off.

Thankfully, they broke their gaze and looked at me, ready to go in. I smiled as if I hadn't noticed their staring at one another.

"Who will go first?" Thornen asked mysteriously. I refrained from chuckling as an idea entered my mind.

"Good question!" I shouted, already shoving him into the water. As soon as he was in, Hurgen jumped in after him. I laughed so hard it became a challenge to breath.

" _Not_ funny, Carabelle," Thornen said with gritted teeth. Hurgen giggled and punched him playfully on the shoulder.

"Not funny? It was hilarious!" She told him with a splash.

"Is it really that cold?" I asked.

Thornen scowled, but it was clearly jokingly. "You'll have to see for yourself," he growled. Without further hesitation, I tucked my knees into my chest and plunged into the icy liquid.

Freezing water was the most efficient thief of warmth I knew. A shock leapt through my body, like a lightning strike. I could've sworn my blood was frozen in my veins. My lungs already begging for something other than the water, I swam up too the surface, my body shaking violently. I expected it to be cold, but not _this_ cold. But the thing was, I _loved_ the exhilarating feeling.

Taking deep breaths, I took a look at my two companions. Hurgen was in a heated splash war with my grinning brother. I gave my head a little shake before returning below.

For a while, I swam and swam. I forgot all about my brother, and everyone else for that matter. My mind was at peace beneath the surface, in the water. I had become numb from the cold, but I took little notice. Then I kicked my way back up for breath.

"Look," Thornen said once I had reached above. He pointed his finger behind me. I turned to find my sister Marada sprinting over to us, her red curls flying with the wind. And without uttering a word, jumped into the water, creating a large splash. I rolled my eyes; always one for an entrance.

Hergen looked a little taken aback. "Is that another one of your siblings?" She asked. Thornen and I nodded in unison.

"Yes," Thornen replied. "Marada is her name. A very wild spirit, that one is."

And he was correct, of course. Marada was the fiercest, wildest, yet kindest person I had ever met. But yet, out of all my siblings, her and I were always the closest for some unknown reason.

Marada rose up, her soaking hair covering her face. She used both hands to throw it out of her face.

"Damn," she said, "this _is_ cold."

"Marada, Mother told you to stop cursing, remember?" I reminded her.

"Eh," she shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sixteen now, right?"

"So?"

"Whatever," she muttered. She went back under before I could answer.

I swam as far away from everyone as I could, trying to allow my mind some peace once more. Soon I gave up on that endeavour and went back up for breath. I rested my arms on the moist surface ground as my legs kicked underwater. The largest silver rock I had ever seen rested in front of my left hand. It looked almost like an oddly shaped boulder. Not taking much notice, I laid my head on my arms and gazed up at the morning sky.

Not even a minute had passed before I felt a sharp pincer clasp my four left fingers. I quickly realized what I had mistaken for a rock was really a _mudcrab._ The pincer crushed down, creating loud crunching noises. I screamed like I had never before, praying to the gods someone would cease this agony. Blood poured out from my fingers, seeping into the green grass and the brown mud. I cried out for help again, and this time I heard splashing coming nearer to me.

Using all the strength I could muster, I pulled back my limp and bleeding fingers from the mudcrab's firm grasp. I threw myself back into the water for fear of another attack.

My other hand gripped the bleeding one as I remained under the water. I had never experienced such terrible pain, _ever._ I treaded as far aaway from the animal as I could. Once out of breath, I went back up, blinking the water drops out of my eyes.

"Carabelle!" Marada shouted with a concerned voice. She was on land, soaking wet. She stared at me with her clear, wide blue eyes.

"Thornen killed it with a rock," she informed me. She gestured to Thornen, who was swimming over to me, Hurgen closely following. Then she pointed to the bloodied mudcrab laying dead on the floor.

"A rock?" I asked with little breath, a little skeptically. She nodded, her eyes growing more frantic.

"A rock, yes. A large one, at that. Are you alright?"

I couldn't conceal the pain any longer. "No," I winced, showing my hand partly. She gasped at the sight of the blood.

"C'mon, Mother will know what to do."

I crawled out of the pond, as did Thornen and Hurgen. Thornen put his arm around my shoulder, trying to help me, though it did close to nothing.

"You need to learn to defend yourself, Carabelle. You can't flee from _real_ battle, you know. I think I ought to bring out the lessons we did when you were younger, remember?" He told me quietly.

I remembered _those_ lessons. They mostly consisted of him attempting to show me how to use an axe, or a sword. But every time I was absolutely atrocious at it. An axe just never felt right in _my_ hands. Not even a bow felt right in my hands. A mystery that couldn't be solved, it seemed. I didn't tell anyone about this strange feeling of mine, since I knew no one would approve.

The only other option would be something everyone in my village, and especially my family, deeply disapproved of: _magic_. But the thing was, I _loved_ magic, though I had never used it before. Deep down, I knew magic was my real weapon, despite everyone telling me otherwise. No one knew my secret desire, and I was determined to keep it that way. Loving magic would never be good for me. Unfortunately, that just wasn't my life and I had to accept that.

Mother gasped at the sight of my hand, but then wrapped it up with some old cloth, announcing I had broken all four fingers. The bleeding stopped after she applied a simple healing potion, sealing the wounds almost completely. Mother, though she detested magic, was a skilled alchemist. I gritted my death the entire time, because I didn't want everyone to be _so_ concerned. Soon everyone in the house was crowding around me, much to my dismay.

"Carabelle, does it hurt?" Lirena asked, her brow furrowed in worry. I nodded and smiled weakly.

"Yes of _course_ it hurts, child! Don't be so stupid!" Hissed Joratte, pulling the young girl back.

Tears welled up in the milk chocolate eyes of Lirena, and she ran to her room.

"You know she's only a little girl," Marada said with a disheartened look. She never approved of anyone being unkind to one another.

"And so are you." Joratte said sharply before marching away.

"Something is troubling her, it seems," I told Marada in an undertone.

"Who knows anymore about her?" She whispered back, now gazing at the potions on the table. Her blue eyes had a strange gleam to them as she looked at the potions, which I found very peculiar.

I hurried off to my room, eager to escape my prying family. Fortunately no one else who shared the room was in there, so I had it all to myself. I collapsed onto my aged bedroll, my arms and legs sprawled out. I rested my throbbing hand cautiously on my stomach.

My wet hair dripped all over the top of my bedroll, so I pulled the tangled mess above my resting head.

And soon, my eyelids fell shut, and I drifted off into the unconsious land of dreams. But this time, I had dreamt of two memories. The two most haunting memory I had always seemed to cloud my soul, no matter how hard I tried to prevent that.

My birthday had been the day prior; I was now ten years of age in the memory. My aunt had arrived at her brother's house to stay, looking ill and pale. The thing was, she was a mage. A mage who had attended the College of Winterhold. And Father, who was her brother, didn't particularly like that. But nevertheless, he still took care of her with the assistance of his wife. They didn't know what to do about her 'sickness'.

Bordican, who was much older than me, informed my curious young self that Aunt Mertga had been cursed. And one morning, while I was picking flowers alone, Aunt Mertga came over to me.

 _"Sweet girl," she whispered softly, her face paler than ever, with a gray tint. "The visions have told me of your powers. I am to die very soon, you know. Here, take this, love. It will assist you in your endeavours, later on." Aunt Mertga crackled lips formed a fragile smile as she handed me a sealed letter. I stared at her in shock for a moment, her words hard to process._

 _"The visions? You're going to die, Aunt Mertga?" I asked with a panicked voice. She nodded gravely, her head slightly bowed._

 _"I have been blessed with the Sight from the gods above, sweet one. I see visions of the future, and of the past. You will understand once you read the letter. But please, dearest, hush about what the letter reads. You mustn't let anyone know." And she wrapped her arms about me, her dry lips pressing against my head. I didn't understand._

 _"Talented, you will be," she said in such a soft voice I barely heard it. Then she turned on her heel and bustled away as if nothing had happened._

 _The scene dissolved and another memory erupted._

 _A day after she had given me the letter, I was sitting outside as dusk approached, picking flowers yet again. I heard yelling coming from inside the local inn, so I stood up to get a better look. The door swung open and out came my aunt, surrounded by three drunken villagers. A man threw a punch at her face so hard she almost fell to the floor. The other two villagers jeered threateningly at this. I took a few steps closer, my aunt's words running clear in my head. I am to die soon, she had said._

 _The man threw an even hard punch at her face. This time, she made contact with the floor. Blood smeared on her face, she steadied herself quickly. Her hands were open and before I knew it, they were flaming with fire magic._

 _Fire magic._

 _I had never seen such a thing. I blinked over and over to make sure I wasn't imagining this._

 _"Meet Sovengarde, you filthy mage!" Shouted the man as his friend handed him his large, steel waraxe._

 _But it was too late. Just as she was creating a fireball, the axe came crushing down on her head. The wasted man laughed with victory, continuing to hit his bloody axe against her lifeless body, though she was clearly dead._

Tears flooding uncontrollably and icy sweat pouring down my face, I awoke with a start. I tried to catch my breath, but that felt _impossible._ Images of my dead aunt refused to depart my mind. My shaking right hand gripped the bedroll tightly as I attempted to regain my sanity. I quickly glanced around the room to find it was still desolate, besides myself.

I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing, but in half a second I was on my feet and exploring the wardrobe. Hidden inside a book was the letter she had given me seven years ago. The hands of mine trembled like never before as I picked up the leather book, and slipped my index finger into the last page. The ruffled, old parchment flew, like a weightless feather, onto the ground.

I desperately bended over to pick it up. Once in my hand, it sat there for a moment. I hadn't read this letter for at least two years. I had tried to forget all about it, because I knew she had to be mistaken. It never made any sense, the words she had given me.

I slowly unfolded the yellowing page and began reading the curly hand written words she had given me so long ago.

 _Dear Carabelle,_

 _Oh, just writing your name brings back so many memories. I'm happy your father named you after that wonderful Breton that saved his life in the Great War. She was such a great warrior, from what he told me. Such a shame she had to pass away so young. He will forever be in her debt._

 _Now, love, I know we haven't had much time to get to know one another. But, though you may not know me, I know you. Your parents love you very, very much, and so do I. You have a real future ahead, Carabelle. A future some may not respect or agree with, but that's alright. It may be hard and challenging, but I believe in you, love_.

 _Your future has much love but much evil too. Something I believe will help you greatly in your endeavors is located in Springclear Cave not far west from Wolfwater._

 _You have a choice, Carabelle. If you don't want this all, then you can just as easily remain with your loving parents in Wolfwater, and have a perfectly good life there. Be wise and cautious about your decision, my sweet._

 _I must bring this letter to an end. I am to die soon, which is why you were given this in the first place. Whatever path you may choose, just know I'll be always be with you, dearest._

 _Love,_  
 _Aunt Mertga._


	3. Chapter 3

I slowly lowered the letter, my hand still shaking.

 _What does this mean?_

This was the question that had been branded in my head ever since I read the letter the first time. She was wrong — I _wasn't_ going to be anything important, or good, or even recognized. I didn't have a choice. . .did I? I couldn't be a mage, no matter how much I wanted to.

Father had despised magic and shouted at just the mention of it after Aunt Mertga had died. He also hated the Thalmor (after he had fought in the Great War), who used magic as their main weapon. Mother didn't like it either, thinking that it was just too dangerous, and Skyrim was already _so_ dangerous anyway.

But this pull — this pull I couldn't describe always brought me to the same place as before: thinking about the forbidden. Magic.

 _No,_ I told myself. _No._ My eyes stayed locked onto my aunt's final written words as I thought about what to possibly do _. Nothing._ I didn't have to do anything about it. My aunt was simply mistaken about my future. I folded up the letter with weak, trembling fingers before placing it back into the book and in the wardrobe.

My head spun madly, making me slightly sick. I leaned up against the wardrobe with my fingers pressed on my temple. I looked down on my other hand, hoping to find an improvement. It still hurt and the bandage appeared red from the bleeding.

The next thing I knew, the door of the room was being tapped lightly with a fist. I yelled with a frail voice,

"Yes?"

The wooden door opened, and Marada stood in the doorway, her expression full of concern.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" She asked, softly. I shook my head once.

"No, you didn't. What's up?"

Her forefinger and thumb rubbed a strand of red hair out of habit. They moved in a circular motion, never moving out of line. For a moment she didn't speak, but instead examined my injured hand.

"Is it. . .is it any better?" She said, sitting down on my bedroll. I shrugged, my body subconsciously pushing harder against the wardrobe. Not even Marada knew about _it_ after all these years.

"Yeah," I lied quickly. I didn't want her to be worrying about me, though I knew she would anyway. She smiled briefly, before her red eyebrows knit back together.

"Good," she said quietly. "Do you want something to eat? Mother wanted me to ask you that — though I told her you were probably sleeping. She cooked up some nice apple stew, you know."

The image of warm, steamy apple stew made my stomach growl. "Yes," I replied, my now dry hair falling like black curtains around my face. "Sounds great."

We departed the room rather quickly, our noses tingling from the sweet scent of cooked apples from the other room. When we arrived at the main room, Mother was already divvying out the stew into wooden bowls. She glanced up at us as she poured another bowl.

"Hello dear," she said, her face becoming even more soft. She set the final bowl onto the small, slightly rotting table. "Is your hand any better?"

I paused for a moment, watching the door of the house swing open. Father came in, a rare smile on his white lips.

"Uh," I looked back up at Mother, forgetting about my reply after spotting Father. "Yes, it's much better."

"Carabelle!" Father shouted ecstatically. My grin spread from ear to ear as I pranced over to him. He wrapped me in one of his bear hugs with his huge arms.

"How are you, my dear?" He asked, lowering his arms. Something seemed to have dawned on him.

"Oh!" He said abruptly. He gently took my left hand in his, and carefully looked over my wounded fingers.

"Damn mudcrabs," he muttered angrily. "Do they still hurt?" He stared down at my fingers with wide chocolate eyes.

"A little," I replied, partially truthfully. They just didn't hurt a little, they hurt a _lot._

After a few moments, Mother began calling the rest of our family to dinner. I pressed my lips to Mother's cheek in thanks to the meal. She cupped my cheeks with her thin, soft hands and whispered,

"I'm so proud of you, Carabelle. What a beautiful young woman you have become."

I blushed scarlet as my mother continued to gaze at me with such admiration.

And then the rest of my siblings filed into the room, their faces eager for the delicious food. Thornen came in last, and I heard him say goodnight to Hergen before closing the door. He walked in a very gleeful manner.

"Greetings, Father," Thornen said with volume. He grabbed the first bowl he could get his hands on and began digging in.

Soon we were all cramped around the tiny table, munching on Mother's well crafted stew with delight. Even Joratte seemed to enjoy it, and she enjoyed so little in life. I silently wondered how she would be like once she joined the Vigilants of Stendarr. Selfless and kinder, perhaps? Was that even possible? I genuinely didn't know - Joratte and I were never close, as she isolated herself from everyone usually. That meant I didn't know _much_ about her, even after all these years of being her sister and living with her.

Father ate up his bowl in what appeared to be only a few large bites. He was acting much happier and outgoing than normal, which I liked. That meant that something good had happened; which in itself was a rarity.

"You seem rather cheerful, Father," I said, popping another spoonful of stew in my mouth. His face had a strange sort of glow to it.

"Oh yes," he answered, chancing a glance my mother's way. She smiled too.

"Well," Father began, now looking at all of us. "For one, I managed to sell quite a bit today."

We all exchanged merry glances, knowing what an achievement this was. For the past few months, selling his blacksmith work was becoming more of a challenge. But this, this meant there was hope again.

"And because of that," he continued, "I plan, in the early dawn of tomorrow, to take dear Carabelle into the city of Markarth, so that she may buy something she desires, for her seventeenth birthday."

I could hardly believe my ears. I looked up at him, staring straight into his warm chocolate eyes, making sure he was genuine. Father loved making jokes. . .but he wouldn't joke about this, would he?

"Really?" I asked quietly. If it was a joke, then I couldn't allow to get my hopes up.

"Of course," his voice was calm but excited, and I knew it was the truth. I couldn't suppress my joy; I lept up from my chair and wrapped my arms around Father's large neck.

I had only gone to the city, Markarth, once in my entire life. It was when I was very young, and I barely remembered the experience. In my isolated and uneventful life this was a wondrous opportunity. And I could _buy_ something too? I owned nothing of value - besides whatever possibly was in Springclear Cave. I shook the thought out of my head - there was nothing in that cave, Aunt Mertga had been mistaken. Or. . . was she? Would she really mistake something like that?

"Best get to bed soon, Carabelle. Wouldn't want to be weary for tomorrow's journey," Father said quietly. I replied with a soft "yes" and almost sprinted to my room.

I tucked my body under the bedroll in the darkness, both my mind and body shaking with excitement. After a few minutes passed, the door opened, and a small, shadowy figure walked in. Then there was light in her hand - a candle that had been lit. The candlelight made her red hair shine like orange fire. I stared at Marada with wide, very conscious eyes as she sat on her own bedroll, located right next to mine.

"You excited?" She whispered into the darkness. At least _she_ was happy for me, unlike others. I had seen Joratte's jealous face when Father made the announcement. I was very fortunate to be offered such an incredible chance by the Divines. This was my chance to see the real world, to know what's it's like to be truly _out_ there.

Marada's turquoise eyes glowed from the candlelight flame. She had a curvy, joyful lipped smile that made me grateful for such a kind sister.

"Yes!" I whisper-shouted in reply. She laughed, and then her finger began twirling her hair again.

"I'm a little jealous, I have to admit," she told me, still grinning broadly. I snickered loudly.

"Doubtful," I replied jokingly. "You're never envious about _anything._ Anyways, I just can't believe that I'm really leaving Wolfwater. I've almost _never_ been out of this damned place my whole life."

"I _know_ ," Marada replied in a hushed voice. "But it's only temporary, Carabelle. As much as I hate it, I feel as though I'll always be here. Stuck in the same old place, with the same old people, never knowing what it's like to be _free._ What is wrong with freedom? Mother thinks I'm being irrational thinking that way, but I don't know how _not_ to. Perhaps I'll marry well, and that'll be how I'll depart Wolfwater. But what's marriage without real love? Unless I love him - I just can't ever see it."

Her blue eyes were even more piercing with the golden candle glow. I saw desperation in those eyes - desperation to escape this monotonous life.

I sighed, laying back down on my bedroll. I tucked myself as far into it as I could, hoping tonight wouldn't be too cold. Somehow though, I knew that wouldn't be the case.

"Goodnight." I whispered to Marada. There was a pause, where only her and I's slow, even breathing could be heard.

"Goodnight, Cara." Her voice was just barely audible. Then I heard the shuffling of feet, and she had left the room.

A sudden warmth spread over me as I imagined what dawn would bring.

 _Markarth. The old Dwarven city._

But oddly enough, I immediately thought of my aunt and her letter. I shook my head repeatedly at the unintentional thought.

My black hair fell in sheets over my head, slightly protecting my fair skin from the cold. The room was even chiller from the desolation. Usually there was always someone else occupying it with me. My teeth chattered slightly, so I pulled my roll up even higher, to the point where it was almost covering my entire body.

And soon, sleep took me, my mind and body finally calm once more.

•••

"Carabelle," someone was saying as they shook me with force. My eyes opened slowly to find Lirena staring down at me with huge eyes.

"Wake up," she whined, still shaking my shoulders. I gave her one weak nod, my eyelids drooping.

"Father's waiting, Carabelle!" She persisted. I finally pushed myself out of my bedroll and onto my feet.

Lirena handed me a dress that I had never seen before. I looked at her for a moment, wondering where she would've gotten it from.

"This isn't mine, Lirena," I told her, my voice hinting with suspicion. She couldn't have stolen it, right?

"It's Mother's," she replied innocently. "She told me to give it to you last night, as a gift, I think."

I took the dress in my arms and examined it. It was nicer than anything I had ever seen with its radiant blue color and variety of patterns. It was shocking Mother even owned something this nice. Most likely her mother had given it to her. I smiled at the thought.

"Beautiful," I whispered, my forefinger rubbing against the soft material. Lirena then left the room in a haste.

Marada was the only one still asleep in the room. She was a very heavy sleeper, so I didn't think much of Lirena and I's conversation rousing her. I stripped off the simple dress I normally wore, and slipped into the turquoise dress. The dress was flowy and loose, making it unusually comfortable.

I tried my best to make my hair look presentable. I used my fingers to get the tangles out, then I braided it. I hoped that was enough.

I stole a glance at the unconsious Marada and smiled. She would have been going mad about my dress if she was awake. I left the room quickly, shutting the door as quietly as possible. Father was sitting at the table, waiting for my arrival.

"Father!" I said, a grin forming on my face. "Look at this dress Mother gave me!"

I twirled for him twice, which made him start laughing cheerfully.

"Very good, Carabelle. I'm happy you like it. Now, let's get going, shall we?" He stood up at these words, a gray colored knapsack swinging round his shoulders. I couldn't prevent the excitement and adrenaline that shot through my veins as he said this.

"Let's get going, then," I said, slipping my feet into my worn boots. Father gazed strangely at me until I asked,

"What?"

He laughed heartily and smiled mischievously. "Happy Birthday, Carabelle." He replied simply.

I finished tying up my boots, and then grabbed my satchel, which held a tattered map of Skyrim Father had given me some time ago, and a few flowers I had picked for Mother's alchemy.

Lirena and Firenze came skipping into the room suddenly.

"Father. . ." moaned Firenze, "why can't _we_ go? We never go anywhere."

Father didn't hesitate to respond. "Too young, child. When you are older, yes. But now, no."

Firenze's face saddened as he said this. Lirena then shouted,

"Tag, you're it!" And they both went sprinting away.

Father and I departed the house soon after that. Outside, I stood a moment, letting the bright sun soak my skin. The morning sky was streaked with a radiant pink, and a pastel purple. I admired the beauty and tranquility of it all with a heavy heart. There were a few roaming villagers, but it was mostly desolate. Father and I walked down the path of the village in peaceful silence.

Just as we were about to leave Wolfwater, I spotted a middle-aged beggar sitting near a shrub, looking miserable and desperate. Father didn't seem to notice him until he said in a weak voice,

"Spare a septim?"

Father stopped, unsure for a moment, before resuming his walk. I stopped walking too, but instead of resuming, my fingers began quickly searching my satchel. I found, laying at the bottom, the only three septims I owned. Without even bothering to look at Father, I took the septims and placed them carefully into the beggar's course, clammy hand. He stared at me in shock, then at the shining gold.

"T-thank you!" He said abruptly. "Divines will bless such a charitable heart!"

I had seen this beggar in the village before. He had been here as long as I could remember. I returned a smile at the poor man.

Then Father and I stepped out of the village, our journey to Markarth _really_ beginning.


	4. Chapter 4

"That was a kind thing you did, Carabelle," Father told me kindly. I smiled to myself, watching the cobblestone path ahead with careful eyes.

"It was the right thing, was it not?" I asked serenely. My eyes glanced up to see him nod once.

"Yes, you are correct. It's just very hard to give what we don't have sometimes, Carabelle. I would give more, but. . .it's impossible most of the time. I must think of my family. Then again, there aren't many Nords with a heart such as _yours_. Be glad you have your Mother's heart, my daughter."

This produced a grin unlike any other on my face. "Thank you, Father," I replied simply. Then we continued our journey in peaceful, undisturbed silence just as before.

Skyrim was more beautiful than I ever knew in my seventeen years on earth. My view was no longer limited to the ordinary sight of Wolfwater; no, now I was exposed to an entirely new perspective. I thought I could wander Skyrim for hours, perhaps even days. The varying shades of the sky, the trees, and the shrubbery, all worked together in a harmonious way, creating such a gorgeous sight; it was a challenge to behold.

We passed the largest, most jagged mountains I had ever seen. There were even a few waterfalls that sparkled under the sunlight. The grass on either sides of the path had shades of mountain flowers I didn't even know existed. I stopped a few times to pick some, knowing Mother and her alchemical ingredients.

I felt an odd sense of freedom wandering those roads — though I knew it was a false feeling. I didn't have the freedom, as much as I would have like to. But for now, all I could do was be thankful for the little sliver of freedom I was allowed.

The journey wasn't very long at all. In fact, I would've liked for it to be longer. Father knew the path so well. Not even two hours had passed when we walked up the small hill leadinto Markarth. There was a small windmill on my right, and a stables on the left. I tried to conceal, or at least tame, my immense schock at the wondrous sight. The sharp mountains surrounding the city were so high that the clouds caked their tops. The Dwemer stonework just seen from the stables was jaw dropping. Father didn't react much at all, but that was only because he went to the city almost every other day.

We walked up the path and to the outside of the city. It was breathtaking, to say the least. The vastness of it made me feel so small and minuscule. Miners dressed in dirty white clothes passed us, their faces coated with sweat and dirt. I tried to smile nicely at them, but none seem to take any notice, or better yet, care to notice.

"Hrander! Good to see you again, my friend. The new reins you sold me have been working incredibly!" Said a middle-aged man, hopping off his carriage to greet Father.

Father smiled at the man and replied,

"Why hello there, Kibell. How goes it?"

"Fine!" Kibell said enthusiastically. "I wish business was better, though. Don't get travelers very often anymore. Folks are too scared to enter 'cause of the Forsworn."

Father nodded, his eyes slightly trailing off towards me. Wolfwater had only been attacked by the savage Forsworn twice in the seventeen years I had lived there. And for both times, in happened in the dead of night, when I was asleep. The other villagers took care of it immediately. I didn't know much about them, and never took an interest to learn more.

Kibell noticed me and began speaking again. "And who might this be, Hrander? Never seen this one's face before."

"My daughter," Father said. "Carabelle is her name."

Kibell grinned hugely at me. "First visit here? You ought to enjoy it here. City of Markarth sure is a beauty. No doubt about that."

"Indeed," I replied quietly, glancing up at the city before me.

"I'll take my leave, then. Good day, to both of you." Kibell finally said then, climbing back onto his wooden, graying carriage. The brown colored horse began hitting its hooves against the ground and neighing, almost like a whine. Kibell shushed him and repeatedly kept saying,

"Calm down, calm down."

Father and I then continued walking up to the golden door of the city. We made our way up the stone steps, then to the door. There were stairs on either side of us, leading higher up, to the top of where the guards watched. Then Father pushed opened the golden doors, revealing the old Dwarven City of Markarth.

Many people roamed about the City, making it look strangely alive. The structure of the buildings were simply magnificent, and again I felt so tiny and unimportant, almost as if I didn't belong in art this masterful. A woman to the left was running a raw meat stand, which created a strong, unappealing smell. Just behind her was a smaller stand run by a Redguard woman. Father and I walked along the meat stand, then to the Redguard's stand. She greeted us a little lazily, clearly not having the most eventful day.

"Perhaps a silver necklace or a silver ring? Easy to wear and soft against the skin. Very good as a gift to a friend, or even a lover."

Father smiled at her as I examined the jewelry in the display cases.

"Good morning, Kerah," Father said to the woman. She hazily nodded at him.

"Oh yes!" Kerah almost shouted, evidently remembering something. "Half price for this emerald necklace," she gestured to one of the necklaces in the display case. "Folks seem to think it's bad luck, since it came from a Forsworn looter."

"How did you acquire it, then?" I asked curiously.

"My husband found it on one of their body's while he was traveling," she answered quietly. I nodded, my gaze returning to the necklace.

It was silver all around, except for the center. The silver circle had a little emerald gem in the middle, which almost glowed. I couldn't help but imagine myself wearing the little beauty.

"How much is it?" Father inquired. Was he seriously thinking about buying it for me?

"Three hundred and fifteen septims."

"Do you like it Carabelle?" Father asked me expectedly.

"Yes, but - "

"Here you are. And please, keep the change."

Before I could stop him, he had set a large bag of gold on the stand. Kerah took the gold with hungry eyes, and quickly handed him the necklace.

"Father, we can't - !" I said, stopping his hand from accepting it.

"Yes, my daughter, we can. It's your day," he told me in a calm and collected voice. I let go, and he took the necklace carefully into his fingers.

He stepped behind me and pulled my long, thick hair to the front. He wrapped the emerald necklace about my neck, which was surprisingly not heavy at all. My fingers of the uninjured hand brushed up against the little green gem very softly. I _loved_ it, though I wouldn't admit it to Father, since I still regretted how much it costed him.

We then continued wandering the astounding streets of Markarth, again in calm silence. We ceased walking when we arrived at a temple looking structure. I looked up at Father, wondering if he'd tell me what it was for.

"The Temple of Dibella," Father whispered, gazing not at me, but the sparkling, dream-like waterfall flowing near the Temple.

"May we enter?" I asked, unable to resist. I had never formally been in a Temple, since we only had shrines back at home. I was curious to see what kneeling before the Divines in a Temple was _truly_ like.

"Of course."

He gently put my arm in his, and then led me to the bronze door, which had detailed patterned carvings throughout. He pushed open one of the large double doors and took me into the quiet Temple.

Once inside, I noticed how many statues of the goddess there were around. The room was very dim but strangely radiated a warmth. Bright red banners with gold printing swung swiftly back and forth. There was a feeling of something indescribable enclosing us, creating a unique sort of emotion inside me. I felt as though I could do anything that I pleased, and have the strength to succeed, no matter what. And just like Dibella herself, it was utterly _beautiful._

A woman shorter in stature, her face hidden due to the bright orange hood, approached us. She was wearing what I judged to be some sort of monk robes. Her hands were clapped together like she was praying, and she moved gracefully. She bowed lowly to us, which took me by surprise. I thought about bowing in return, but she spoke sooner than I could act.

"Greetings. My name is Senna, and I am a priestess here at the Temple of Dibella. I'm sorry, the Temple of Dibella is closed. You can receive your blessing, if you wish, but the other sisters are in seclusion."

"What are they doing?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. I regretted inquiring the question at once.

"The sisters are communing with Dibella. They can't be disturbed. You'll have to come back another time." She replied even quieter. And without saying anymore more, she turned her back and went to the bronze door that led deeper into the Temple, leaving us staring after her.

"Let's leave, then," I whispered to Father, disappointment clear in my tone. Father nodded gravely and linked arms with me once again. We departed the Temple, the feeling of flying disappearing as the door closed behind us. _At least,_ thought I, _I got to enter a Temple._ _What an awe-inspiring sight._

Father and I then ambled some more in the City of Markarth, trying out new foods, greeting new people, and so forth. It was all a very exhilarating and new experience for me. Father, when noticing what time it was, decided it best for us to start making our way back home. I nodded, slightly disappointed, but at the same time gratified. We walked down the stone steps that led us out of the City, my eyes trying to memorize Markarth, since I suspected I wouldn't return here for a very long time.

Then, all at once, everything came crashing down, like heaps of tumbling rocks.

A young woman no older than twenty stood examining the jewelry at the stand, the very one I was at not long before. A man standing right behind her, who looked to be anything but a threat (especially with his miner attire), suddenly drew his blade. It all happened so quickly, yet I felt I could've somehow stopped him. The man shoved his blade into the young woman's shoulder, blood immediately staining her ragged blue clothing. She didn't even have enough time to scream. She fell back onto the ground then, her face draining of color rather quickly. And she laid lifeless, evidently dead. The shock of the situation almost froze me in my place.

Multiple guards rushed to the spot, surrounding him in a lethal circle. I couldn't see who or what killed him, but I did hear the murderer's final dying words.

"I die for my people."

The guards backed away from his lifeless body, leaving him dead on the street of Markarth. They went over to the girl's body, but did nothing except look at it. Her crimson blood was still bleeding out onto the stone carvings. Shouts and screams erupted all around, and the citizens were moving forward to the dead.

I was repulsed and terrified, yet I was unable to take my eyes off of the gruesome scene. I was vaguely aware that Father was pulling me out of the City, telling me to go with him. Finally I regained my sanity and understood. We quickly ran to the doors and pushed them open, the doors then slammed loudly behind us. Father took a firm hold on my arm once again.

"W-what. . .?" I said, not even able to create a coherent thought. I stopped walking for a second, making Father stop too. I stared at my rough, worn out boots for a moment, desperately trying to collect myself. One clear thought was produced:

 _Someone was murdered right before my eyes._

For some odd reason, I felt fear, but also lots of regret. Could someone have saved her? Could I have yelled for help? Could _I_ have saved her?

"Carabelle!" Father shouted at me. I looked up, realizing he had been calling my name numerous times.

"Yes?" I asked, slightly bewildered.

He blinked three times before breaking our gaze. We began speedily walking down the stone steps again, Father still making me wait for his reply. Kibell, the nice carriage man from earlier, waved to us. He was holding the reins of a snow colored horse, a huge grin spread across his face. When he saw our expressions - or at least Father's expression - his grin began to falter.

"Hello again, Hrander!" Kibell said. "What's happened?" He asked, worry starting to coat his face.

"There was a murder." Father breathed. "And the murderer was of the Forsworn, I believe."

Kibell gasped quietly, his eyes looking up at the City. "Damned Forsworn," he muttered under his breath. He shook his head while staring at the tall mountains near the City.

"I was going to give this old thing to you, Hrander. Been in the stables far too long now. Ol' Cedran was selling it for free. I know how tough it is to walk here and back from your little village everyday."

Kibell handed the reins to Father, who was surprised but extremely thankful.

"His name's Snowflake. Loves the cold, for some reason," Kibell continued happily. "A nice little horse he is, though."

Father smiled kindly at the carriage driver. "Thank you very much, Kibell. Shall I pay you?" Father reached for his gold pouch, but Kibell put out his hand to stop him.

"No, no Hrander. 'Tis a gift." Father grasped Kibell's hand and shook it.

"Thank you, again."

And at that Father hopped onto the pale white horse. I stood there, gazing at the horse. I had never ridden a horse before, and only actually seen one once. Father lowered his arms and wrapped his hands round my waist. I yelped as he pulled me onto the saddle in front of him.

He tapped the horse with his heel and pulled back the reins, making him began galloping. At first I had to recover my balance, but after that I realized how exhilarating it was to ride a horse. My braided hair whipped behind me, and my eyes stung from the rushing wind, and I felt a beautiful feeling of freedom once more.

But the freedom was tainted, since I couldn't keep my mind off of the young girl getting brutally stabbed in the marketplace.


End file.
